She Maybe Lying
by downtonily
Summary: What if Mrs. Hughes wasn't all that truthful to Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson?
1. Chapter 1

Just a short little thing I wrote while half asleep!

* * *

She sat in her parlor as she contemplated the way Mr. Carson had been singing. He was truly happy, and not just relieved. In all her years as housekeeper, Elsie, could not recall once ever hearing joyous singing from the dignified butler. But there he was earlier polishing silver and singing! Singing for her lies…

There was no other way, if she had told them that it was cancer they would have never let her lift a finger while she slowly withered away in a cold bed in the uninviting hospital. She couldn't do that to herself, she wouldn't let them do that to her.

When she had gone in Dr. Clarkson had told her stop working. Ask for retirement and live her last days in peace; except working was all she knew. He warned her about how it could speed up the affects of the illness but that didn't seem to matter. Elsie Hughes was not going to let this illness creep into her life before it had to.

The pain would have to move over and when the time came where she couldn't hide it any longer. So be it. They won't have to worry her any longer then they should. Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson were both worried about the prognosis today. They truly won't have to worry till the time comes when the truth will be undeniable.

Pulling out a small doll, she turned it over in her hands. She should write to Joe, tell him about it. He would understand. He always did when it came to her. Both times she told him no he had bounced back and understood and never once had he questioned her choices in her life. She could confide in a man who would worry for her, but she knew he wouldn't die if she died. Others she wouldn't be too sure about.

The knock on the door signaled the meeting she had been expecting tonight. Wordlessly she placed the doll in the drawer and slowly she moved to open the door of her parlor and in came Mr. Carson. A wine bottle and two glasses in hand. He gave her a wide smile as he placed them on her desk with more vigor then she had seen from him in a long time after a day like today.

"Mrs. Hughes, I believe we have something to celebrate tonight, do we not?"

Elsie watched the undeniable twinkle in his eyes. Lady Edith's wedding had been stressful on him and her health even more. (She wondered when was the last time he worried for himself?) She returned his smile with her own. She would indulge in the things she somehow seemed to have taken for granted over the years at Downton.

"I feel like a new woman, Mr. Carson,"

The boyish smile he gave her when he handed her the glass was worth the lie she was about to embark on living. She would make it her goal to keep Mr. Carson happy, because judging by the way he worried about her. She doubted he could go on living if he was aware of the cancer.

Many believe the man sitting next to her was a stoic mind, but she knew he could easier become a bleeding heart.

* * *

**A/N**

I wrote this because I have a feeling Mrs. Hughes maybe lying about her prognosis. But who knows? Maybe it's just my own little mind trying to trip me up and not be the happy shipper I should be.

Thank you for reading ! And I would like to thank Mumford & Sons for inspiring the last line. I'm not a good writer, but least I could add in a dash of amazingness?


	2. Chapter 2

Charles sits in his pantry waiting for her, hoping for the courage to present her with the small gold band in his pocket. He knows not to get his hopes up; she wasn't required to accept his proposal. But he's noticed her ever slowing walk over the past couple of months, her exhaustion during their nightly meetings.

They're getting old he never thought he'd retire or even contemplate it. But since Lady Sybil's death he's realized he's only ever played a fool, setting the stage for someone and thriving for their approval. Never has Charles Carson just reached out and grabbed something for his own need. (Yes, Elsie Hughes is a necessity. After all these years he couldn't doubt that fact.)

The knock on the door and the quiet entrance he gave the subject of his thoughts a small smile. She sat down on the settee and waited for him to pour the wine.

"How was dinner tonight?"

"Very well, they didn't drink much of the wine, shame to, it's a nice bottle,"

Mrs. Hughes smiled at him, that smile he noted had been harder to get out of her recently. But he always prided himself when he did make her smile.

"Well I suppose we'll have to make up for that, won't we?"

He smiled and took in the dark rings under her eyes, pouring her a glass of wine her gathered up the nerve to.

"Mrs. Hughes, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?"

"I'm an open book,"

"Would you ever consider leaving service?"

He watches her body stiffen with the question. He never expected a reaction, maybe a brush off at the most on the rejection end of things…

"I'm sorry, it isn't my r-"

"No, no. Mr. Carson you have every right," She looks down at her hands and then back up to him.

"I have considered it, many times before, why do you ask?"

Charles stares at her and down at his wineglass (Wine has always fascinated him, but now it was only a distraction.). He could forget everything that he ever thought of before tonight. It could be as easy as just telling her that it was just a thought after the untimely death of the youngest Crawley daughter.

"What would you do?"

Or he could prolong his pain even more…

"I don't know, maybe have a garden, read a little to much, lie in as late as I could"

They both know lying in would bee impossible for them, they've grown to know their schedule, their bodies couldn't function if anything deviated from their everyday routine. But a garden, he could see her in a garden, flowers and vegetables. The sensible side of her and then the freer side would come out in the garden. He could see her face now whenever her first bloom arrived after the winter, the pride that one of her flowers made it to see another season.

"Have you ever considered… -"

He doesn't notice the pain in her eyes as he goes on. He's staring at his hands as the last words fall off his lips.

"Considered retiring with _me_?"

It was bold of him, and he realizes that. Placing his glass on the table beside him he still doesn't look at her. Doesn't see her shaking, or the sudden tears that were streaming down into her wine.

"I'm sorry, that was an improper question,"

"Charles, I would. But I can't,"

_Charles?_ She spoke his Christian name, her voice wavering. It's then when he finally gathers his own to look up at her and realizes her distress. Was it something he had said? Done? It had only been a daft question, purely a hope. Even he could tell these were tears of sorrow, even if she rejected his offer. She wouldn't be crying, would she?

"Why are you crying?"

He sounds like a fool, but he's frozen in place. It isn't proper to comfort her. (Was he really thinking that? Whenever he just proposed marriage and living together?) She doesn't look him in the eye as she whispers her next sentence.

That's when his world comes crashing in.

"I have cancer,"

a/n:

This was supposed to be a one-shot. . . Oops, but least I know where this is going! Lol, yeah me. R/Rs would be great!


End file.
